***

Orphan care is not just something that the adults are called to do it. Throughout the Bible we see the call to plead the case of the fatherless on all Christians. This call on Christians does not preclude a certain age group, meaning that teens are called to be just as much a part of the orphan care movement as anyone else.

The problem comes that for many of us when we think about ‘orphan care’ we think strictly about, adoption. This is not a correct understanding of the calling to plead the case of the fatherless. If this is our thinking then it is no wonder we do nothing with the teens to encourage them to help bring love, care and support the the 163 million orphans world wide. Here is the start of a list you can do to help orphans in your youth group.

1. Sponsor a child - There are many great child sponsorship programs out there. Maybe your youth group could sponsor a child, pray for them, send them cards. Compassion International, World Vision to name a couple.
2. Support a family who’s adopting – Find a family you know who is adopting and give them a helping hand. Clean the yard, fix up the house, cook dinner, give the parents a night out, wash their cars. I bet the family would be blessed by just about anything you can do. Here is a list my wife worked up .doc.
3. Pray – Make praying for the fatherless a normal part of your life and the life of your students.
4. Missions trips - Take students on missions trips to other countries, and to local areas so they can see the need and look beyond their own life.
5. Rise Money for a family - Youth groups are great at raising funds for just about anything. Why not do a bottle drive , car wash, or bake sale to raise money for the fatherless.
6. Teach - Teaching on the theological implications of our adoption in Christ is huge. I know the task may sound daunting, but it is so worth it.
7. Share testimonies - Either have people who have been adopted either by Christ or another family and have them share their story.
8. Resource students - Point students to books, blogs, web-sites, articles. Check out Abba Funds list of resources.
   
9. Give opportunity – This list is in no way an exhaustive list, so open it up to your students. Ask them what they think they can do, let them think outside the box, then help them and let them go after it!
10. Do it often - One of the worst things you could do is simply have a focus week, and leave it there. What is needed is constant, continued and persistent.

I’ve always wanted to be the guy in the orange shirt.

Or the blue shirt, depending on the organization.

I’ve always wanted to be the person on the ground, handing out water bottles to tsunami victims, shoveling rice  to starving people and holding the hand of the orphan.  I’ve always wanted to really “be” the hands and feet of Jesus to a hurting world, like,

literally, not just figuratively.

In the trenches. Hands dirty.

Swinging my own sword to fight injustice.  Hugging with my own hands the forgotten children.

But, we’ve lived in Thailand now for nearly a year, and my husband and I both are coming to the humbling understanding that because we were born into the world as wealthy, educated Westerners,

we may never get to truly be the guy in the orange shirt.

Because, honestly, the nationals are more equipped to be the hands and feet of Jesus within their own cultures than I am, as a first-year-American-missionary. They speak the native language, live similar lifestyles, and possess the intrinsic knowledge which my Western mind will never fully grasp.  The national local church is just naturally a better fit for the orange shirt.

And this is a hard pill for me to swallow.

Because suddenly my role is more behind-the-scenes and not-as-much frontlines.  And this births a struggle because building websites in front of a computer screen doesn’t feel as inspired.  Raising money by writing emails doesn’t seem as dramatic, and administering the finances sure doesn’t equate rescuing children in my mind.  And yet these skills, unglamorous and sterile as they may seem, are some of the ones my husband and I can bring to the table.

And I read this last week about a battle the Israelites had on their way to the Promised Land {Exodus 17}.  And it was Joshua who was in the trenches swinging the sword, but it was Moses who was on the hilltop with his arms raised, claiming victory for the battle below.  And then there were two other men, little remembered I’m sure, Aaron and Hur, who literally helped Moses keep his arms above his head–both arms raised, for an entire day.

And this struck me, personally, because I think Matt and I came here assuming we were going to be Joshua, the guy in the orange shirt, the soldiers on the frontlines.

But the reality is that in many ways we are more needed as an Aaron or a Hur– doing the undramatic, quieter service of holding up the tired arm of a national.

And I think the reason this idea has bothered me over the past few months is because I came to Thailand with a bit of a Savior-complex. I flew over oceans because I was caught up in the assumption that I had the answers and abilities and funds those people needed.

But I was wrong.

And I wonder how much of my service has been motivated by selfish-ambition, wonder how much of my “loving the poor” has been wrapped up in a thirst for the dramatic.

And this is hard to admit– hard to admit that perhaps I have been serving with a bit of an agenda.

But, humbling as it may be to confess, I still think it’s true–

Because authentic love for the orphan doesn’t care about jobs or recognition or drama.

And genuine care for the least of these has no regard for pats-on-the-back

or the color of shirt it wears.

************************

Thoughts on the role of the West in foreign missions/humanitarian aid?  Do you suffer from “orange-shirt desire,” too?  How important is it to mobilize nationals to help orphans within their own countries?

Final picture above is my husband Matt with the assistant-director of the Girls’ Home, Breanna’s House of Joy.

***

It was something about that day. The day my eyes were opened. The day we committed to adopting. The day that it became real.

The Orphan Crisis.

I had always had a heart for children. For the hurting, the less fortunate, the fatherless. But I’m not sure it really made sense to me until I was a mother myself. Until I held my 9lb 5oz, 2 week late, amazingly strong baby girl in my arms for the first time. Then I understood the crisis.

All children need love. Need a home. Need a chance.

It was that day. That day in April 2010, when my newborn baby was only a few weeks old. That day my husband and I looked at each other and realized, we are called to adopt. It’s what has always been the plan for our family, before we even knew it or said it out loud.

We are parents to a precious baby who hasn’t even been born. Maybe more than one. God knows. It’s been His plan all along afterall. It just took us opening our hearts, our minds and our home. To the hurting, the less fortunate, the fatherless.

I encourage you to open your mind. Pray. Ask God if adoption is for you. You might be surprised what He has in store for your family. Consider how you can make a difference in the crisis the children of our world face.

Just open your eyes a bit.

photo credit: ndanger

As the days remaining until Idea Camp head into the single digits, and the temperatures rise- leaving carrots where snowmen once stood, my mind has been plowing over and over the thoughts on these coming days.  And allow me, if you will, to traipse away from toeing the line for just a bit.  Because, to be honest, I am not sure, just yet, whether I am excited about this gathering or not.

It’s not the topic: working for 99 Balloons, I am so honored to be a small voice championing the cause of special needs orphans at this event.  Additionally, Ginny and I are currently engulfed in the colossal paperwork associated with international adoption (not a sentence I thought I would be writing at this time in our lives, but wouldn’t you know it, He didn’t ask what my timetable was).

It’s me.
I know me.  And I’m afraid that all of you coming might be like me.  And that thought alone is sufficient to overshadow the excitement I would otherwise feel for the days ahead.

So here’s a note to me.  Cause I don’t know you.  I know me.  I know my bents, my predispositions, and my ability to sink ships that were headed to beautiful ports.  But there’s at least two possible me’s that could make an appearance, and therein lies the hope.  Here’s a note that encourages the Bigger Me to show up to Idea Camp; because history has proven that without intentional invitations to the better side of me, I am prone to show up as the Small Me- small in stature, but always carrying more baggage.

___________________________________________

Dear Matt:

Be quick to listen and slow to speak.  You do not have all the answers on an issue as big as Orphan Care.  This is not about you, not about your work and not even about your adoption.  All of those the things you have done and are doing are only because of a greater love that has compelled you from your natural apathy.  This is about children worldwide without parents, and the God who loves them and invites you to get to loving them as well.  Your most impactful activity will be prayers to the one who knows each hair on every head.

Your best thoughts and most compelling strategies are lacking.  At the core, this is not merely a problem to solve or an issue to fix, but a call to move forward with eyes of faith that look past an issue to see a person.  Not “them”, but you- desperate, alone and in need of help.  Believe that small acts of love, when done in faith, move mountains.

Do not discard others because they have chosen to go down paths that you have chosen to not take.  We are not all on the same script.  See that as beautiful instead of threatening.  Stand on the sidelines and cheer them on, giving them cups of water, as they run in directions you will not go.

Do not see the group that shows up as the ones that “get it”, and roll your eyes at the ones who choose not to come.  In doing so, you will become the very thing you hate- building shaky platforms from which to look down upon others.

Leave your skepticism at home, and have faith enough to imagine that God could use a rag-tag group of desperate souls to encourage one another to be more like Him; and in so doing, we will love these children more for it.

Sincerely,

Self

___________________________________________

If I can put these Big-Boy pants on one leg at a time and show up to Idea Camp, then I really am excited.  If not, it’s wasted time that only allows me to feel better about myself, but does nothing by way of eternal value, and thus nothing for the orphan.

***

Adoption is hard. It doesn’t stop being hard when you receive the baby. Or when the revocation period is over. Or when you finalize the adoption in court. In fact, that may be when the real journey starts. Adoption is born out of loss, for at least two parts of the triad and sometimes all. Birth parents have an obvious loss. Obvious but maybe not recognized fully. Out of love for their children or circumstances beyond their control, they lose their children. Did you read that? They lose their children. For the sake of their children. They endure excruciating pain in hopes of giving their children better lives. And the children? They have what some call a “primal wound,” the loss of their parents. Some may argue that in newborn adoption especially, children never know or miss their parents. I don’t agree.

Cy was with his first mother for nine months. He lived inside her,  he heard her voice,  he knew her smell. She was the only world he knew. He has her lips, her temper, his father’s eyes and drumming skills. He doesn’t get to see those things. He doesn’t get to know his sister. We talk about them, show him pictures, and keep in touch with his birth mom and sister. But it’s not the same. We have no idea what kinds of questions will arise for him as he ages. Will he wonder why she chose adoption? Will he accept our answers? Will he feel abandoned? Unloved? We don’t know.
Right before he turned three, Cy realized in our conversation that he didn’t grow in my tummy like Will did. We’ve always talked about his adoption, but that fact had never occurred to him I guess. He cried and cried. He screamed at me, “I NOT adopted. I grow in YOUR tummy, Mommy!” It broke my heart. Will heard him and tried to reassure him, “But Cy, if we hadn’t adopted you, I wouldn’t have a brother…” Broke my heart too. Talk after talk, he grew to understand and accept the idea that he hadn’t grown in my tummy. I showed him a picture from the day we met his birth mom; she was quite pregnant with him. I said, “You see how big her tummy is? That’s you in there.” He beamed.

Cy’s almost four now, and the questions are only beginning. I’m sure I’ll be left speechless and clueless many times. I read and read, trying to be adequately prepared to answer whatever he may ask. And I pray that God will give us words when we have none. You see, adoption is hard. It hurts my heart to tell a doctor I don’t know his family history. I ache when I think of what it must be like for his birth mom to receive our letters and pictures of his adorable little face, knowing she hasn’t held him since he was five weeks old. I can’t stand the thought of telling him some of the private pieces of his story when he gets older.

But adoption? It’s a miracle. It is a life-changing, God-given miracle.

Cy has changed our lives and our family forever. His story has given us the chance to glorify God and minister to others in a way we could not have done otherwise. He is a joy to us and everyone he meets, including anyone who might be sharing an aisle with us at Walmart. And here’s what I know as well: we are also meant for Cy. Not because we are the best parents ever or perfect in any way, but because God placed him in our family. He gave us the gift of being his parents, and in turn, gave Cy the chance to be our son. With every year, we see more and more why God put us together. He is perfect for our family, and we, specifically, are meant to be his parents.

Around the world and in your community, there are millions of children who need families. Maybe God has someone planned for your family, just like he put us together with Cy. It’s not about having a baby or adding to your family. It’s about being a family for a child. You may not feel that adoption is right for your family, but there are many other ways to help orphans around the world. If you want to join the conversation to fight the epidemic of orphans around the world, I encourage you to visit www.ideacamp.com and register for the upcoming conference in Northwest Arkansas. I hope to see you there!

***

The orphan crisis suffocates if you let it.

Numbers overwhelm, faces merge together, stories fall on top of each other and pleas for help go unnoticed. Our heartstrings can only take so much before they snap in two.

At this moment – when every pore dangerously hangs on the line of apathy and indifference – we have to dig deep.

It’s really easy for me to disengage. Even in writing this post, I’ve done nearly everything other than dwell in the messiness of the orphan crisis. I can blame it on lack of focus, but it’s really just my heart’s hesitancy to sit and rest a spell. Primarily because sitting and resting usually reveal some type of pride and unwillingness to allow Christ to break me. It’s pretty common in my life. Make me face ugliness, distress, pain or grittiness and I run the other way. Most of it’s a defense mechanism – but this doesn’t make it right.

Most of you know Russ & I are in the midst of adopting from Ethiopia. What you may not know is that I ran from this for as long as God’s mercy would let me. We always knew we were going to adopt. Others went before us in obedience and authentically shared the pitfalls and celebrations of the process, so we were well aware of what it would take and for awhile just waited for the moment where He would look at us and say, okay…it’s your turn. Follow me, I have a child for you.

So when that moment came, I freaked. Russ and I aren’t experts in any way shape or form. We invite people to an event and may have our closest friends show while others have the ability to snap their fingers and gather hundreds. We don’t have a trust fund set up or any type of savings. Compared to others who seem to join the adoption community and immediately have everything complete, most days Russ and I struggle to find our keys. I don’t have any little children to keep me busy, but the laundry still gathers in a pile and the dust still multiplies and the dishes wait in the sink for me to wash. To say I was overwhelmed was an understatement. How in the WOLRD would we last through this? And right before I turned and sprinted the other way, He caused me to trip and fall. Broken, I remembered the morning I woke up burdened for our child knowing at one point, he or she would be waiting on our obedience.

That moment was here – although I didn’t know whether or not our child waited in an orphanage or in a womb, our obedience was essential and instead of pushing and shoving and crying and fighting to get to my child, I was running the opposite direction. I let my comfort get in the way – I let the suffocating brokenness of the orphan crisis cripple my ability to react to His leadings.

I wish I could tell you I don’t fight it anymore. I wish I could tell you in the three months since Russ and I decided to adopt not a day has gone by where I wanted to give up and let go of the calling. It’s hard. Most moments I want to collapse in tears from the weight of it all – the paperwork, the phone calls, the travel, the expenses, the knowledge that at one point our child will be an orphan – it’s just too much and my heart wants to cower. I don’t handle well the questions geared toward why we chose international vs. domestic and I don’t like it when people ask about how far along we are in the process. I cringe whenever I sense the glamour associated with adoption and the element of celebrity status some people achieve after completing the process.

Bottom line: I’m hanging on the line of apathy and indifference with my pinky finger.

But in the same escaped breath of desperation comes the intake of grace from my Father who adopted me. I’m reminded how he sacrificed his own Son in order to heal me and how he watched me broken repeatedly before I even let Him touch my wounds. He doesn’t run from my mess and He chases after me in moments of rebellion. Times where my actions could suffocate even the most patient parent with the audacity of my disobedience, He holds me and whispers words of quiet admonishment.

He does not let go. He pulls me from the pit of apathy and indifference and holds my chin towards Ethiopia so I won’t forget. And He does this in such a loving way that slowly my heart begins to match the beat in His chest. Suddenly, the suffocating weight takes root in my soul and I know the heaviness will always be there – but it’s only so I won’t ever turn away.

So where does this leave you? I don’t know. Our callings toward orphan care are all different yet similar – they all echo the heartbeat of One who wants every single one of His children to know the love of a Father. Are you running? Are you hesitating? Take it from me: it’s not worth it. He doesn’t care if you’re not an expert. He thrives in situations where people like to throw around the word impossible. And later this month, hundreds of ragtag wonderers will gather in NW Arkansas to look at the messiness of the orphan crisis and work together for creative solutions.

Maybe you would like to join?

***

We live in a high gloss world.

We want beauty. We crave attractive things.

We have cute handbags, pretty paper, and desire gorgeous houses. Our society is consumed with superficial loveliness.

Sex appeal is a hot commodity.

The ugly truth in our pretty world:  *attractive people earn more
money and are generally viewed as more successful.

And while God created true beauty, it isn’t found in home decor or luxury cars. It’s not really about perfect figures or chiseled
appearances.

True beauty is found in the least of these.

Orphans.

But orphan care doesn’t sell. It’s not attractive or appealing.

There’s nothing desirous about poverty so devastating it chokes the very breath out of you. The stench of living without simple resources
makes you want to run. I’ve touched the heads of sick children, living in the streets of Africa’s slum. I shuddered as death rattled with every breath. I only offered them silent tears that fell to the rot beneath my feet.

Poverty isn’t pretty.

It’s forgotten in our world. We pretend there aren’t thousands and thousands and thousands of children dying everyday,
while we shop for an upgraded life. We ignore the forgotten because it makes us uncomfortable.

We forget the orphan because they make us feel ugly.

Not our carefully manicured facade, but the inner self that is deteriorating with selfishness and apathy.

I met orphans- Susan and Vincent and a host of others in the poorest part of the world. I have touched the faces of orphans in our foster care system. Their beauty shined a light on my ugliness. I will
never be the same. Jesus used their plight to change me.

It’s still difficult to stare down the enormous beast of poverty. I question if we can really make a difference, really change the world? But how can we not at least try?

We are excited to join the voices and wrestle out these challenging questions at The Idea Camp focusing on the global orphan crisis
and the church.

Orphan care (foster care, adoption) aren’t sexy, but they are beautiful.

*stat

***

If you were someone who studied trends in causes of the Christian church throughout history, you might have all kinds of statistics pointing to “the orphan” and “orphan care” as among the more popular topics today. That is my assumption anyway; since it’s likely that neither you nor anyone else I personally know actually studies such trends, I’m only left to guess. Perhaps I’ll google it later, but probably not.

Really though, everywhere I look and read, Christians are talking about orphans and their care. And somewhere along the way I finally started paying attention. A girl can only hear James 1:27 so many times before something clicks. Orphans, huh.

My attention gave way to concern. And that concern began to give way to action. Slowly. And almost so subtly that I didn’t even notice it at first. Had I noticed, I might have tried to do something to excuse myself from this thing called the orphan care movement.

It’s quite easy for me to count myself out from getting involved. I have limited resources, I am currently raising three young children, I have many obligations right here where I am, and so on. This might sound familiar to many of you.

On top of all that, just look at how ordinary I am. I grew up in a Christian home and came to know Jesus in a very non-dramatic fashion. I married a good man who provides enough for us to live here in our average home in the middle of America. We are two of many members in a big ol’ church, and we are never called on to preach or anything like that. We don’t even lead a small group. There’s no way that I have as much to offer as, say, someone who already runs a nonprofit for this sort of thing.

I feel a bit like Moses, who, when God called him to lead His people to the promised land, thought his slowness of speech and tongue would disqualify him from service. “Oh Lord, please send someone else to do it,” he said (see Exodus 3:1-4:11).

However plain and ordinary we may feel though, God, who is extraordinary, does seek to use all of us who are willing to do His work. And He calls us to do this work alongside of Him; He gives us the words to say, and in Moses’ case even the ability to say them (Exodus 4:12).

When considering God’s call to care for the orphan, we must be careful to understand what that is versus what it is not. Sure, some will respond to that call by selling all that they own and moving to a remote African village to run an orphanage. Others who see the great need may feel led to international adoption. I think it would be wise if we all at least prayerfully consider both these types of involvement. But many who do not feel such a specific call to do either of these things (I’ll leave it between you and the Lord to determine what a “specific call” might mean for you) excuse themselves entirely from the effort of orphan care.

This is not how it should be. No one can do everything, but we all can do something. There are many other ways to support the cause of the orphan such as direct support through child sponsorship, foster parenting in your own communities, parenting support, community development, special needs ministries, HIV/AIDS prevention, and others. With technology today, you can be an orphan advocate without ever leaving your house.

Ask yourself this question: “How can I personally get involved in caring for the orphan?” and let God move you into action. But don’t be surprised when through the natural course of your obedience, even though you may start in your living room, you end up going to the ends of the earth for the least of these.

***

I am the father of 6 children. My 4 youngest are adopted. I am the President & Co-founder of a human rights organization working to end child trafficking and exploitation. I am deeply conflicted. Here is why:
When I was in Cambodia about 8 years ago, the Director of a large human rights agency asked me; “Do you really want to do something practical to stop child trafficking?” I of course answered yes. She said; “Then do something about international adoption.” At the time, I honestly wasn’t sure what she meant. She then went on to explain about how international adoption, if not done well and with vigilance, can fuel child trafficking.

To be truthful, my immediate reaction was defensiveness. I was even a little offended. Mostly because I am an adoptive father and I believe that adoption can be a viable and compassionate response to the global orphan crisis. But also offended, or more aptly put… mad as hell that traffickers would prey on the most vulnerable; turning orphans into commodities.

Since that conversation I’ve learned a lot and continue to learn, from my daily fight to end child trafficking and exploitation, as well as from our family’s own journey of international and domestic adoptions.

I’ve discovered she was right. Intercountry adoption, if not regulated and monitored can contribute to the trafficking of children. Trafficking occurs within international adoption when children are taken illegally from birth families through “child buying”, coercion, kidnapping, etc. They are then sold (often times with falsified documentation) to orphanages, “facilitators” or to adoptive parents as “legitimate” orphans, implying the child’s parents are dead, when in fact the child’s parents are still alive. Trafficking can also occur when children are left at orphanages by their parents for temporary care or in the hopes of receiving an education, and they are illegally placed for adoption without the parents knowledge or consent, under the pretense that they are true orphans.

The reports of cases involving the trafficking of children for adoption seem to be multiplying, sometimes resulting in the arrests of “facilitators” and the shutting down of orphanages and even agencies. The US State Department has closed the international adoption programs to several countries due to trafficking.

Many of the root causes behind trafficking and the orphan crisis are the same. Poverty, conflict, natural disasters, disease, injustice, corruption, greed, gender and racial discrimination all create extreme vulnerability. Traffickers prey not only upon vulnerable children, but also the desperate circumstances of birth families and the good intentions of compassionate adoptive parents.

I get concerned when I see an approach of “finding children for families” within the adoption world. This only increases “demand”, and demand fuels the trafficking and exploitation of children. Our approach instead, must be one of finding families for children. And this needs to include extended family or foster/adoptive families within the child’s own country. While I believe that most intercountry adoptions are ethical and not corrupted by child trafficking, the issues still exist and must be addressed.

I think often times we are much better at dealing with the consequences and results of these systemic issues than we are at preventing them. Building more safehomes is not the answer to ending child trafficking, just as adoption is not the solution to the growing number of children who are orphaned. These responses are compassionate, loving and effective acts made necessary by the above causes.

William Sloane Coffin Jr. said; “To show compassion for an individual without showing concern for the structures of society that make him an object of compassion is to be sentimental rather than loving.”

It’s like the story I’ve heard of people falling off of a cliff. There are those at the bottom of the cliff scrambling to provide care to those falling off and driving ambulances back and forth, shuttling broken people from the foot of the cliff to the hospital.  At some point someone gets the idea of building a guardrail at the top of the cliff to prevent people from falling off.

Frankly…until we build guardrails…until we address and go after the reasons why children are trafficked or why there are millions of orphans on the planet today, there will always be another trafficking victim. There will always be another child orphaned. I long for the day, and will continue to work toward the day, when that will no longer be the case.

If you want to be a part of an ongoing and meaningful conversation of what that might require and what it can look like, I want to encourage you to attend the Idea Camp//Orphan on February 25-26 in Arkansas. This is a conference designed to facilitate fresh, honest and transformative conversations with leading thinkers and practitioners on topics including US & International orphan care, community development, trafficking of orphans, adoption, foster care, child sponsorship, HIV/AIDS, special needs, cross-cultural & religious dynamics to care, etc.

I’m looking forward to being there and learning from others, as well as helping to guide the conversation on trafficking and the orphan.

Because the issues surrounding intercountry adoption and child trafficking are complex, it would be impossible to cover all of these in a blog post. So if you are interested, here are some links to resources to further understand the issues and possible solutions.

http://adoption.state.gov/hague/overview.html

http://adoption.state.gov/

http://www.ethicanet.org/

http://www.jcics.org/

http://www.adoptionintegrity.com/

http://www.adoptinginternationally.com/

http://www.pear-now.org/

And now…your thoughts?

-Rob (Proud adoptive Dad…and human rights advocate)

Rob Morris
President
Love146

Follow me on Twitter HERE

I was asked by Amber Haines from The RunAMuck to contribute to the Idea Camp, and talk about the effect of adoption on other children in the family.  This is an important issue, one that tends to be only briefly covered in most books about adoption.  I could give you a whole lot of generalities to consider, but it feels most meaningful to just tell you about our own experience.

When we first adopted back in 1998, our four biological kids were 10, 8, 6, and almost 4.  We expected that the adjustment would be much like adding any child to a family:  some displacement jealousy, especially with our youngest bio son, but not a whole lot else.

Looking back, we were both right and wrong.  We were all surprised at the amount of attention centered on our new little guy from Korea.  He was 4 months old when he came home, and cute, cute, cute.   The used-to-be baby, also pretty darned cute, was nonplussed by the attention shift. A lot of the attention was probably because our newest child was Asian.  Our Ethiopian girls experienced similar levels of intense attention when they first came home, uncomfortable for them, and strange for older siblings who as part of the Caucasian majority in Idaho felt suddenly invisible.

Our second Korean son came home a year and a half later, in 2000.  He was 20 months old, only 2 months younger than our first adopted child, which means we basically had twin toddlers.  It was a tough year helping him settle in while juggling the needs of all the other kids. We as mom and dad were busy, sometimes tired from being up at night, and expected more from older kids. They took in in stride and did well with the challenge.  But I am sure there were times when they wished we were more available.

We didn’t adopt again until 2004, this time a 20 month old girl from Ethiopia.   It was good timing for our family.  By then our youngest boys were 6, old enough to do some things on their own, and certainly old enough to wait when our new little girl needed mom.  She adjusted easily to our family and we all really enjoyed having another little one.  In 2005 when we adopted a 6 month old girl from Ethiopia, that adjustment also went well.   The older kids were used to adding siblings and helping mom and dad.  And they adored having a tiny sister.  I remember marveling at how naturally the bigger boys could show affection to this new little baby, even as they were growing up and wanting less hugging from me.

Babies add a wonderful dimension to family life for older children. I am the oldest of 8 kids, and have rich memories of carrying younger siblings around, doing their hair, dressing them, and enjoying the feeling of being a competent older sibling, complete with all the adoration that the little ones showered on me. Yeah, they get into your stuff and cause extra work.  But it’s pretty darned hard to be a cranky teenager when you’ve got a tiny sibling patting your face and unabashedly loving you.

Adopting older children brings a different set of adjustments to the family.  In 2007 we brought home 9 and 11 year old sisters from Ethiopia.  We were so eager to welcome them that John and I both went to Ethiopia for them, bringing our two littlest girls along too. The new girls were thrilled to meet their little sisters in Ethiopia, and began bonding to them even before they felt comfortable with us.  Once home, the girls also gained great comfort from having other kids close to them in age in the family.  (Our Korean boys were born the same year as the younger girl, and our older girl is about a year younger than our youngest biological child.)

It was more of a mixed bag for older kids.  Our newly arrived 11-year-old greatly resented sisterly advice and correction from our older bio daughter, age 17.  The 11-year-old had never been anyone’s little sister and our 17-year-old couldn’t remember being anything but a big sister.  They collided at times, with both girls feeling like I favored the other in my attempts to encourage harmony.

Also difficult for the older kids was the rule-testing by the new arrivals in our family.  Oh, we tried to help ease the transition, in every way possible.  For a time we gave our new daughters a lot of extra grace, conscious of the huge adjustment and all the grieving they were going through. We were hoping once they bonded with us better, they would be more concerned about pleasing us.  But three months in, everyone’s patience with the disruptive behavior was wearing thin, including the older siblings who sometimes felt aggravated that the newbies seemed to have a different set of rules.

Our youngest girls were 2 and 5 when the older girls arrived, and after a few months were mimicking some of their behavior.  Nothing earth-shatteringly awful –  just arm-crossing, eye-rolling, avoidant, pouting behavior that we’d never allowed in our home before. That was one of the hardest things for me to see as mom.  Here we wanted our home to be a haven, and it seemed to be heading in the opposite direction instead..  Around the 6-month mark after a lot of prayer and pow-wows between John and me, we got serious about giving consequences for every unacceptable behavior.  Though bonding still wasn’t readily apparent, and I worried that we were slowing down bonding with all the consequences, the girls’ behavior gradually improved.  That made it easier for everyone (especially me) to feel gracious and loving towards them.  And though they still had plenty of times where they wished for nothing but their old life, they gradually began to feel like they really truly belonged.

In the spectrum of older-child adoption adjustment, our new girls were very much in the normal range.  Some kids adjust more quickly, and others have much more severe issues.   But for us it was hard enough.  Oh, that first year was slow and difficult! Many times I wondered if the price our other children were paying was just too high. I was thankful many times for the clear way that we’d been led to adopt these very kids.   Because when I remembered how God had led us to them, I also remembered to trust that He had a good plan and He would also lead us through the challenge.

Now that the older girls have been home 3.5 years, they are happy, usually respectful, and are so much better settled in.   It was a tough journey with many bumps and valleys and they’ll always have memories of loss.  But they have overcome so much, and I get the sense that in their hearts they’ve finally arrived home. We are so blessed to have each and every one of our children in our lives. Relationships all around have grown and flourished.  These days one of the delights of my life is watching our teenage sons teasing their Ethiopian sisters.  They thoroughly enjoy each other.

In looking back I can see how John and I have grown as parents through the challenges.  I can also glimpse some of the reasons why God might have allowed those challenges to touch all our children as well.   It could be that in the future they might need some extra compassion for the struggles of others, an understand of how grieving and trauma affects people.  It could be that the extra patience they developed through all this may help them with their own kids. Often God grows us spiritually through difficulty, and so I will trust that this adventure He led us on will be one that will benefit every member of our family.

We look forward to the future where we hope to have a houseful on weekends even after kids are grown.  I think of the friendships I treasure with my own siblings now as an adult.  Each of my siblings blesses me uniquely, and irreplaceably. I am thankful for their friendship and love and support, and I look forward to seeing those kinds of bonds grow among my children as they move into adulthood as well.  In a big family you’re never alone in the world. And that’s something to celebrate!

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In writing this post, I tried to be honest while honoring my children and the journey they’ve taken to get to this point. I hope my love for my children also shines through. I feel vulnerable in a way, putting our struggles out there, and yet I do so because I fervently desire to play a part in helping potential adoptive parents be well prepared.  To see both the challenge and the joy, and to decide for adoption anyway.  Because these kids are so very worth it.

To better understand the reasons for a newly adopted child’s grief and pain, please read my friend Shaun’s post The List.

For another view into growing an adoptive family don’t miss this article by Melissa Fay Greene.  (Melissa is also the author of the amazing book There Is No Me Without You.)